


In these darker days, I push the limit to the love you offer

by grxyish



Series: You set me free when no one else would listen [3]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Eating Disorders, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:42:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25994665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grxyish/pseuds/grxyish
Summary: Max should call him, should be mad and yell and demand that Charles come home right away. Max from a year ago would probably have gone a step further and gone out to look for him, dragging him back and forcing him to promise not to do it ever again. He knew better now. Knew that no matter how much he yelled or threatened, it would not change things
Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen
Series: You set me free when no one else would listen [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1483826
Comments: 5
Kudos: 32





	In these darker days, I push the limit to the love you offer

Max does not notice the relapse at first. In fact, it takes an embarrassing amount of time before he even gets a whiff of the new downward spiral. Charles had been doing so good, always smiling, eating everything put in front of him, and he was finally  _ talking _ about things that were troubling him. Everything had been great for so long that Max had started to forget the bad.    
  
He finds out one night when he wakes up to an empty bed. Usually, he slept like the dead, without ever waking up during the night. So waking up in the middle of the night was a rarity, but he also knew that Charles still had some trouble sleeping, so waking up alone did not worry him all too much. His boyfriend had told him about sometimes getting up from the bed to watch some tv and hopefully fall asleep to the mindless soaring of the nightly shows.    
Ever so often, Max would find him sleeping on the sofa when he got up in the morning, only for Charles to join him in the kitchen once he got the coffee pot going. 

This time though, it was completely dark, no lights on in the living room and no low murmur from the television. It wasn’t odd in itself, Charles could technically be in the bathroom or kitchen, but his Monaco condo was tiny, and from his position in the bed he would be able to see all and any turned on lights. He could feel in his gut that something was wrong, terribly wrong.    
  
Crawling out of bed, he quickly pulled on his pants from last night and a fresh shirt from the clean wash-pile. It was raining outside, the noise of the water droplets keeping him company as he confirmed his previous suspicion; Charles was not in the apartment with him. His running shoes were missing along with his softshell jacket. Max had to take a seat on the tiny chair in the hallway, taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart. There could be logical explanations to the missing piece of clothing-like Charles running an errand or an emergency. Except...he really would have left a note of that was the case, and Max knew it. 

Max should call him, should be mad and yell and demand that Charles come home right away. Max from a year ago would probably have gone a step further and gone out to look for him, dragging him back and forcing him to promise not to do it ever again. He knew better now. Knew that no matter how much he yelled or threatened, it would not change things. Knew that Charles himself also knew deep down that he was doing something he should not. It was probably the reasoning behind going out for a run when Max was fast asleep.    
  
Except, even though Max knew all of these things, it still filled his entire body with dread, a sour taste filling his mouth and gut. Like the sickness was something they shared, as if the toxic thoughts infested both of their minds, burning black holes into every little thought and action. Always threatening to come out and  _ ruin _ whatever sense of happiness they possibly felt. It wasn’t fair. 

It wasn’t fair on Max to have these feelings of absolute dread and despair every time Charles’ eyes filled with panic for just a millisecond when they were about to eat something that was not on his safe-list. Or when he could hear the faint sound of retching through the bathroom door when something had overwhelmed his boyfriend’s stomach. All those things that made Max’s stomach ache with worry and dread. The earth-shattering feeling of  _ what if.  _ What if this never gets better, what if he could never be what Charles needed to get better, what if he  _ is  _ what Charles needs and that still isn’t enough to get him through this. 

  
The worst part of it all was that even though it wasn’t fair for him to have to endure these things, he still honestly thought it was more unfair that Charles had to suffer through this destructive illness, to begin with. The need to always be perfect, to always be what everyone wanted him to be: the golden boy, the polite and soft-spoken, the heartbreaker, the flawless and unbroken—an all-consuming task with no apparent end or point of satisfaction. It broke Max’s heart whenever he was left to dry the tears off of his lover’s face as he sobbed about not being enough when all the fake happiness poured off him as soon as they were alone. 

  
  


The sound of the door unlocking brought Max out of his negative thought spiral. Careful feet stepping inside, avoiding the spot next to the shoe rack where the floor creaked with surgical precision. Then came the tiny and wet silhouette of Charles, barely illuminated by the warm light of the hallway outside of the apartment, trying his hardest to keep quiet. 

Max got out of his seat by the kitchen island, moving quickly towards the door to greet his boyfriend. He almost flinched when he saw the panic in Charles’ eyes once he spotted him, almost. 

“Max! I-” Charles was looking for the right words to say, and the Monogasqes’ struggle pained Max. It was not supposed to be like this. 

  
“Shh, let’s get you in the shower. It’s fucking freezing.” There was no point in arguing. Right now he just wanted his boyfriend to get warm again, his lips almost turning blue from the icy rain outside. Any anger he had been feeling was turning into fear and exhaustion, wanting to wrap his lover up in soft clothing and protect him from the harsh reality. 

Charles looked like he was about to protest but wisely decided against doing so, letting Max lead him into the bathroom instead. Max could feel his raging pulse through the thin wrist he had wrapped his fingers around. Likely a mix of the adrenaline from his exercise and the shame Max could sense in his hunched shoulders and avoiding gaze. 

Max took out two towels from the cabinet, making sure he got the newly washed, super soft bath towels that he could engulf Charles in when they were done. Placing the two towels on the washbasin, he then turned his attention back to Charles, peeling the wet layers of his training gear off his shivering body. The pieces of clothing getting thrown into a pile in the corner of the bathroom, Max would deal with them later. 

He made quick work of removing his clothes before guiding both of them into the gentle spray of warming water. His apartment might be on the smaller side for the price it came it, but there had been no expenses spared when renovating the place. The shower had been custom made, with a lovely waterfall shower-head and fantastic water pressure. It was perfect for holding the person you loved while they tried their hardest to not to look affected. Max knew better. 

“Hey…-Charlie,  _ mijn goudvisje _ ” he pressed a kiss to his temple, moving the brunette’s wet hair away from his eyes, forcing him to meet Max’s gaze. The shame in his eyes still present. Max’s heart was breaking all over again.    
  
“You..-” he took a deep breath before starting over again. 

“Will you at least tell me where you’ve gone next time? Leave me a note? A text? I don’t care which, just fucking tell me where you go so I don’t have to worry.” There was no point in being angry with him. Max knew that any anger he directs at Charles regarding his illness would just backfire, would make Charles shut down and refuse to talk to him about it. 

Charles looked like he was going to object, like it was another fight they needed to have about their relationship and the boundaries they set up for themselves, but then all the air went out of his small body. 

“I’m sorry.” his voices cracked on the last syllable of the concise sentence, tears filling up his tired eyes, trying his hardest not to let them fall. 

“I…-I will try,” Charles said, barely audible, probably since it went against everything his mind was telling him: to keep all of this a secret from Max. He looked broken, like the battle between wanting to satisfy his demon and making Max happy was tearing him apart from the inside out.

Max took mercy on him, pulling him in close towards his chest, ignoring the way his lover’s sharp hipbones felt against his naked body. He was so small like this, crying softly into the crook of Max’s neck, whispers of  _ S'il te plaît, pardonne-moi  _ filling the small space between his damp skin and Charles’ mouth. 

If only it were as easy as being forgiving. If being sorry and forgiving was the solution to the problem, then there would not be a problem any more. But this was real life, and eating disorders were more than a small problem that could be solved through forgiveness, no matter how much Max wanted it to.    
  
He let Charles cry it out whilst Max washed them both off. The sound of the water drowning out the small sobs and French mumblings. Max was doing his best to keep his movements gentle against Charles shaking body, moving his hands down his back in calming patterns, pressing down just enough for comfort. 

“ _ Charles _ , pas besoin de t'excuser.” They usually spoke English to one another, mostly because it was easier that way but also because while Max knew some French from his time in Belgium, it was still far from perfect. He felt uncomfortable with the way he sounded while speaking French. But there were times where it was easier to get his messages through his lover’s mother-tongue. 

Washing the last of the conditioner out of his hair also seemed to wash out the last of Charles’ tears. Max quickly turned the shower off and grabbed the towels, wrapping one around himself before using the other one to carefully pat his boyfriend’s body dry. He then fetched the hairbrush Charles had forgotten at his place ages ago, but somehow never took back to his own apartment, and brushed the knots out. Hos own hair rarely needed any help to keep the way he wanted it to, and if it did not meet his standards, it was not a big deal as he usually just threw a cap over it either way. But Charles had thick, long strands that needed attention if it were ever to look like the Monegasque wanted it to. Max had grown accustomed to the right way of brushing it to get it to dry correctly. 

He had not thought to bring either of them any clothes, but it did not matter much, he just led the two of them to the bed in their birthday suits. The new duvet he had just bought was extra thick, as to keep Charles warm once winter settled in and would suffice to cover them both from the chilly air.    
  
Before he could react, Charles pushed him down on the bed, climbing on top and pulling the covers up as he laid down with his upper body resting against Max’s own and legs tucked underneath him, knobby knees resting painfully against Max’s lower thigh. 

“Thank you” Charles breathed, eyes having fallen shut as the exhaustion probably finally got to him. 

  
“Thank you for being so understanding,” he continued, hugging himself close towards the Dutchman. “I will make it up to you one day, I promise.” 

Max pressed a wet kiss against Charles’ forehead, smiling at the face his boyfriend made from getting his skin damp with spit.  _ I’d do anything for you _ he thought,  _ whatever it takes to make you smile again.  _ It scared him at times how much Charles meant to him, especially when he was supposed to be his biggest rival. Sometimes Max wondered if he would be willing to risk his career if it meant Charles would get better. (The truth was, he probably would but he knew it would never come down to that.)

  
“Hmm...I’m sure you will. Now sleep,  _ goudvisje”  _ was what he settled for instead. Sentiment could wait, at least until both of them were awake. 

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo, it took a year but here is another part of this angsty mess. 
> 
> The title is from Bastille's Divide 
> 
> I have chosen not to write these in order, so they can all be read as separate parts. Hopefully, I'll end up writing a happier story for the next part, but knowing my mind it could go either way, lol.
> 
> Please feel free to leave comments, share any suggestions you might have to the story or just come yell at me. I love comments and interacting, heh.
> 
> My tumblr is yxllowish if you'd rather yell at me there


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